In Love With His War
by SinsofMidnight
Summary: Suzaku is a street kid doing anything to make his life a little easier. One day, the daughter of a powerful businessman finds him and takes him in. He lived and worked for her for three months before he found out she was the sister of his childhood friend, but his patron dies a month later and Suzaku is kidnapped by a mysterious cloaked man. AU. Suzu/Lulu. Mature themes.
1. All The Players Are On The Board

_Well, I've found that I can't keep saying I'm working on things without providing a little proof..._

_This is my first Code Geass story, so I hope you'll all be kind to me..._

* * *

**In Love With His War**

**_Fandom:_**_ Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion_

**_Teaser:_**_ "I was I love with a man who was at least half-way in love with his war. And, being as I loved this man and wanted to protect him, I took center stage in his war and I played for keeps."_

**_Inspiration:_**_ I was re-watching the entire series with my elder brother and fell in love with the characters all over again. I wanted to create a world in which some of those characters need not die._

**_Rating: _**_M! Because you can't spell "Lamperouge" without it! lol_

**_Warnings:  
_**_-Language  
-Violence  
-Character Death  
-Forgotten/neglected pasts_

**_Main Pairing: _**_Suzaku/Lelouch_

**_Minor Pairings:_**_  
-Kallen/Gino  
-Lloyd/Cecile  
-Suzaku/Euphemia_

**_Setting: _**_AU! A relatively rough city... New York-esque_

**_POV:_**_ It's Suzaku's tale, this time._

**_Summary:_**_ Suzaku is a street kid doing anything to make his life a little easier. One day, the daughter of a powerful businessman finds him and takes him in. He lived and worked for her for three months before he found out she was the sister of his childhood friend, but his patron dies a month later and Suzaku is kidnapped by a mysterious cloaked man.  
What will his abductor do with him, who is the Earl of Pudding, and what of the mysterious gray-clocked Toudou from Suzaku's past?_

**_Additional ANs:_**_ The summary hides bits of the story, but that's the point: I've gotta surprise you sometimes! 3  
This story promises to be lengthy, so keep watching for more from them!  
Also, just warning you all, but I'm freaking crazy, so most anything could happen…_

* * *

"Oh, c'mon, pretty boy," a man mocked me as he and his three friends circled me. The one crooning at me was average in height, looks, and hair. One of his friends had stringy black-brown hair, one had mismatched eyes, and the last was not a very attractive bleach-bottle blond. They were all of a very average but slight build, with little muscle-tone to detect. "Give it up, kid. You're outnumbered and out-gunned."

Thankfully, the guns he referenced were purely figurative, or I would have been in deep trouble. As it was, given the element of surprise and their over-confidence, I figured I could win. I was a great deal more physically fit that I appeared which always gave me a certain advantage, but I could also tell that they were _less_ fit than they seemed, so I had double the edge.

Still, four-against-one odds are nothing to scoff at.

Unfortunately for me, I was surprised when the stringy-haired man rushed me with a knife. He sliced through my shirt –damn it all, it had been my favorite one!– and my skin, but I ignored the stinging pain in favor of raising my knee to meet his solar plexus. Stringy-Hair doubled over and Average and Blondie rushed to his aid. I turned my attention to the man who hadn't moved. Mismatched Eyes was still blinking in surprise that their prey had fought back, so I kicked him in the groin –hey, there are no cheap shots when someone brings a knife to a fist-fight– and then propelled his body backwards with another kick. That gave me enough of an opening to run part-way up the narrow alley's wall and bounce between the two walls far enough to be out of harm's way for the moment. Then I ran out to the street to look for a good place to hide until the stopped looking for me.

My eyes caught on a store. Just by looking at the shop window, I could tell that the majority of its patrons were women and that I couldn't afford a damn thing in there, so it made a perfect hiding place because they wouldn't even _consider_ looking in there. I ducked inside the store and hurried to the overly-expensive men's clothing to at least blend in as best I could. I bent my head, as though intently looking over each shirt that cost more than I made in a year when I was working, but I watched the window out of the corner of my eyes to see if I could leave this place any time soon.

A soft, feminine hand landed on my arm and I tried hard not to flinch or jerk away. "Excuse me, sir?" asked a soft, pretty voice. "Are you alright?"

I turned to see who had asked me such a question. She had big, beautiful blue eyes and cotton-candy pink hair pinned up in an elegant style, accompanied by a charming smile. "Uh, yeah," I responded. "Why do you ask?"

"You're bleeding, and quite a bit, too."

I looked down and realized my bleeding hadn't stopped. Most of my shirt was moist with the crimson flow. "Oh, wow," I breathed out, finally noticing the pain.

She gently grabbed my wrist and pulled me, her purchases forgotten on the counter behind us.

"Miss Britannia. Miss Britannia!" the clerk called after us as the woman easily maneuvered me toward the door. "Miss Britannia, what about your purchases?"

"Send them to my home," she commanded. "This man needs medical attention faster than I need new shoes." And with that, she pulled me out the door and into the back of a dark sedan that had to have been waiting for her. "Mr. Darlton, take me home. Please hurry," she ordered the man behind the wheel.

"Of course, m'lady. Might I inquire as to why we are in a rush?" he asked as he pulled away from the curb easily.

"This man needs medical attention. Please hurry, Mr. Darlton."

"Yes, m'lady." I could feel the rapid acceleration as he obeyed her order.

"What's your name?" she asked me.

"Suzaku," I told her, hissing out a breath when I realized how much it hurt to even say my name. I didn't add my surname because it hurt enough already and I didn't need any more pity than I was already receiving.

"Hi, Suzaku," she greeted me. "I'm Euphie. What happened to you?"

"Got in a fight." I grimaced. "Four men. Thought they had the best of me until I got away."

"I see. Where do you live, Suzaku?"

"On the streets. Seven years, now." I drew in a hasty breath and tried to ignore the pain.

She made a sound of acknowledgement. "Are you working?"

"When I can. Not currently."

She smiled at me. "Well then. Let's get you taken care of. Mr. Darlton, please call Sir Guilford to help you bring Suzaku in the house. Take him to my room and send in the first aid kit."

She stayed with me and held my hand as Darlton and Guilford carried me into the house and up the wide staircase. My eyes had drifted shut when I'd stopped trying to converse and worked only at blocking out the pain, but that gentle hand pushed the hair out of my eyes and stroked my cheek until I was laid to rest on a soft mattress. I felt a sharper sting of pain so excruciating I wanted to cry out before I felt the darkness seize me.

I dreamed of stepping on clouds and laughing with the moon and smiling at a man with dark violet eyes that made me feel warm and safe.

* * *

I awoke some time later to find myself looking up at the pink-draped canopy of a four-poster bed. I tried to sit up, only to have a man with long, straight dark hair and classes ease me back down again.

"Be careful," he told me. "You don't want to pull your stitches. Sir Weinberg, could you please tell Lady Euphemia her guest is awake?" he asked a blond man who had been hovering in a corner.

"Yes, of course, Sir Guilford," Weinberg replied genially. "Lady Euphemia will be very pleased."

I could only guess that 'Lady Euphemia' was the young woman who'd introduced herself to me as 'Euphie'.

Euphemia Britannia. The name clicked somewhere in my head.

Back when I had actually attended school, my father had been in the process of brokering a very important deal with Charles Britannia. However, my father had died suddenly in the middle of the deal. After that, my problems had grown much bigger than fighting with Lelouch –my very best friend at the time– or deciding whether to have Rivalz and Lelouch over at my house or to go to Rivalz's. My eyes fell closed again as I tried to remember what both boys had looked like.

I couldn't decide why the Britannians always made me think of Lelouch. He'd been my first real friend, and as far as I knew, he had no connection to the Britannian family. _I must be associating the two with that time in my life,_ I supposed to myself. _Either that or it's those violet eyes…_

I opened my eyes again when I felt a gentle hand on my arm.

"Suzaku?" Euphie asked, her blue eyes full of worry.

"Yeah?" I tried to remember the last time I'd been worried over like this.

"You had me a bit worried for a while, there. You were out cold by the time I realized the extent of your wounds. Miss Cécile had to stitch you up."

I smiled at her. "Sorry to worry you. I hadn't realized how bad it was until you said something. I'm lucky; if I had gone back as I had intended, I probably would have bled to death. Thank you for your care, ma'am."

"Euphie," she corrected. "I'm just a passing, normal woman who took care of you."

I laughed at that. "Euphemia Brittania, I doubt you're anything close to normal. Although, it seems as though our families can't get away from each other, even after seven long years."

She cocked her head. "What happened seven years ago? It's the second time you've mentioned that."

I gave her a cool, emotionless smile while I pondered just how much to tell the youngest claimed daughter of the world-renowned businessman. "Genbu Kururugi brokered a deal with Charles zi Britannia," I told her, like I was reciting facts from a history book. "Unfortunately, Genbu died before the deal was finalized, leaving all of his estate to his recently orphaned ten-year old son. Do you recall his name, Euphemia?"

"Kururugi's son was names… Suzaku…" I thought I could drown in the tears that were suddenly pouring down her lovely face at her realization. "Oh, god, you're Suzaku Kururugi… my brother described you to me once, a long time ago… but you're still exactly as he described you. What happened? What happened to you?"

"What usually happens when someone leaves a multi-million dollar corporation to a minor? Greedy relatives crawled out of the woodwork, each of them wanting a piece of it. It's been seven years of familial war, during which the only assets I had to live on were in legal limbo. I couldn't live with any of the family members with suits in progress or with my lawyer, Miss Nagisa. So I lived where I could: squatting in abandoned buildings, living with packs of street kids that chose to band together to watch each other's backs, or staying in shelters."

The look on her face overflowed with pity. "I'm so sorry, Suzaku."

"That's why I didn't tell you before. To know my tale is to pity me, but pity won't keep me safe and fed, Miss Euphemia." I was quite resigned to my fate, but I still clung to that haughty pride my father had bred into me. I lived as best I could. One more year and all the legal garbage would be obsolete. One more year and I would be out of the hell-hole my life had become. I could make it one more year.

"What about legal emancipation?" Sir Guilford asked softly.

"While it's a viable legal action, I certainly don't have the funds to do it. My lawyer has kept this going so many years without ever seeing very much money from me. She's poured a lot of her own funds into this fight, too, but I'm unable to even _choose_ someone to live with without having to deal with repercussions." Legal emancipation sounded so wonderful, but I had no way to make it happen.

Euphemia offered me a loving smile and I found myself unnerved by it. Beautiful, well-bred, high society "pacifist princess" or not, the woman had no business wearing such an expression and directing it toward me. I was the bad luck charm of anyone who dared love me, from my parents to my friends.

Weinberg –_Sir_ Weinberg, I suppose– noticed my discomfort but had no way to guess its source. He ruffled my hair with a strange sort of familiarity and tenderness. I found it oddly comforting and soothing, considering the man was probably not much older than myself. When his strong, warm fingers moved to message my temples, I felt my eyelids droop. It was stupid, but the solid warmth and comfort in Sir Weinberg's touch made me feel something I hadn't felt in a long time: _safe_.

God, just telling my tragedy-laced story was _exhausting_!

_They won't mind if I sleep here just a bit longer,_ I rationalized as my eyelids became too heavy to lift. _ I feel so safe and warm here. They won't mind… Just a while longer… Just let me absorb the sensations I've missed so much…_

* * *

_Telling my sob-story to Charles zi Britannia's littlest princess was an act of sheer stupidity._ I found it quite ironic that my mind processed this thought to the forefront of my brain when I woke up, even before I'd opened my eyes. I couldn't imagine _why_ until I heard that deep, distinctively resonant rumble of a voice.

"How could you even _know_ if he was Genbu Kururugi's son?" Charles demanded. "People will lie to you and use your nature against you –and against this family." There was something in the way he said it that out-and-out _stated_ that the family's safety was more important than hers. I wisely kept my eyes and my mouth shut on the matter.

"He's just as _frère _described him, Father," Euphemia told him calmly. It took me a moment to register the word: it was 'brother' in French. I couldn't help but wonder which of the eleven 'princes' I'd had enough contact with that she could have recognized me from his description, but I was distracted when she continued. "You can see for yourself when he wakes again. But if he _is_ Genbu's son, like he's said," –her her voice turned steely– "then you have to _help_ him."

Sir Weinberg came charging to my aid. "Could you please not argue so loudly, your majesties? You'll wake our patient."

I was starting to wonder if he'd appointed himself to be my caring, warm knight, but I quickly dismissed the idea. Besides, Weinberg had some serious _stones_ if he was shushing Charles zi Britannia! I smothered a grin that wanted to split my face. Had to remain undetected and all that.

I could hear the soft sound of approaching footsteps long before I heard the light knock at the doorway.

"Yes?" Charles demanded, knowing that no one in his household or among his followers who would dare deny him.

"Sir, I need to check his bandages and his stitches. We need to make sure they are kept clean and dry," a soft voice informed the man who was known to bring CEOs to their knees to beg of his mercy.

"You have impeccable timing, Cécile. I was about to wake the patient to ask him a few questions," Charles pronounced. Where the first sentence showed a bit of affection, the second one clearly implied a less-than gentle questioning for me.

"His health comes before your questions, Your Majesty," she returned primly. "You don't want to have him pass out when you interrogate him, correct?"

Charles did the last thing I would have ever expected: he grumbled, but he caved to her. She was less than a slip of a woman, judging by her footsteps, but she could chastise Charles zi Britannia and be obeyed. I couldn't _wait_ to meet her.

"You Majesty, could you please leave the room? I find that some men would rather the whole world not see their bodies and scars." Miss Cécile's voice was obviously the calm wind in the midst of the tornado. Though I was curious of the storm, obeying was still the very best option.

Charles conceded yet again, to my enjoyment, and I heard his heavy and powerful footsteps carry him out of the room.

Miss Cécile's hands immediately went to my bandaged abdomen, parting the shirt that I was sure had been borrowed from someone else –especially since I'd worn a t-shirt, not a dress shirt.

"At least by me dinner first, Miss Cécile," I greeted her calmly. "I'm not that kind of guy."

Sir Weinberg giggled like a school girl. "Would you look at that! The stealthy player reveals his advantage at last!"

I opened my eyes to look up at the lovely woman blushing over me, even though her hand was on my bare skin. "My apologies for startling you, Miss Cécile. I'm given to understand you stitched me up, so I thank you." I smiled at her. "I'm Suzaku. It's nice to meet you."

A flush colored her pale cheeks. Her face was surrounded by soft black-violet hair and her lavender eyes were full of warmth and caring. "It's nice to meet you, as well, Sir Suzaku."

"Ah, I'm not a Knight, Miss Cécile. Just a boy that Lady Euphemia had pity on." I knew how Britannia structured his underlings and I knew what each title indicated. As a child, I'd been confused by the titles, so my father had taken the time to explain it to me. I was lucky my memory served me well; honestly, it had been many years since I'd even _thought_ of the Britannians.

She smiled. "If Lady Euphemia has her way, I believe you soon will be. Her will is almost as strong as His Majesty's."

I shook my head. "I've got my own troubles. There's no need to pull anyone else into mine or allow myself to be pulled into anyone else's."

Sir Weinberg sighed. "But you have such potential!"

I raised a brow. "How would you know?"

"Lady Euphemia told me about what you'd said about the fight."

"Trust me, Sir Weinberg, I got the worst end of that fight and I have the stitches to prove it." I winced when Miss Cécile pulled back the bandage and _tsked_.

"But you escaped four opponents and had the foresight to hide in a place they would never expect you to be!" Sir Weinberg sounded positively _elated_ as he recalled the episode.

"You're forgetting the knife wound I sustained beforehand. A knight should never require a Lady's rescue. Ow!" I exclaimed.

"Sorry, Suzaku," Miss Cécile gave me a sympathetic smile. "It looks like you might have some infection in the wound. Do you know how it could have happened?"

"Well, the brute squad that came at me probably didn't sterilize the knife beforehand. Plus, I live on the street: it's not exactly conducive to cleanly living, although I'm wagering on the knife." I smiled slightly at her.

She gave a long-suffering sigh. "It seems I'll have to see if Lloyd has something for the infection. You're accumulating drainage around the wound, but so far it's been clear. It's better to be safe than sorry."

Sir Weinberg ruffled my hair. "Just be glad Lloyd didn't do your initial exam. His bedside manner is the stuff of horror stories."

At his cheerful smile, the muscles in my hand ached to punch him. _Down boy,_ I cautioned myself wryly. _Nothing screws up a conversation like breaking your hand on their jaw._ "I'll keep that in mind. Sir Weinberg, would you be so kind as to stay when His Majesty questions me?"

"Ah, so you were awake to hear that, too. Yes, of course I'll stay, since you asked so nicely." He smiled again.

Miss Cécile absently leaned in and pressed her lips to my forehead. The gesture seemed so motherly that I could vaguely remember my own mother doing the same thing to check for fever when I was very young. "Make sure he doesn't over-exert himself and let me know if he gets feverish, Sir Weinberg," she commanded before taking her leave.

"Ah, she's a pistol," Sir Weinberg remarked. He was silent for a moment before asking, "Hey, Suzaku, why'd you ask me to stay?"

I wrinkled my nose. I felt safe with this smiling buffoon, but I couldn't tell him that! "I'd feel more comfortable with a familiar face, if that's alright with you."

His smile was more radient than the last few I'd seen. I got the feeling he was truly happy this time. "Oh, I don't mind. It makes me happy that you chose me to be your support."

I couldn't help but smile back at him, perhaps because I genuinely _liked_ this smile. "Don't let it go to your head, Sir Weinberg.""

"Call me Gino," he instructed. "If we're to be friends, you shouldn't have to be so formal."

I raised my eyebrow at his 'friends' spiel, but consented anyway. "Alright. Gino."

There was that smile again. I sighed internally. It would only earn me a scolding from Miss Cécile if I broke my hand on his face. Plus, I genuinely _liked_ him from what I'd seen of him. _And_ he wanted to my friend. Despite my past relationship-challenged state, I knew that trying to break my hand on his face would not be a good way to stay on pleasant terms with the man.

But all the same, I was still very wary of letting people get close to me. Everyone I ever let myself love and anyone who allowed themselves to love me always seemed to suffer because of being acquainted with me. My mother had died when I was young. My father and I had just gotten back to being able to look at each other and carry on pleasant conversation when he'd died. Miss Nagisa's practice had all but halted when she took me on as a client. Any of the kids that took me in and taught me the ropes of street-life always ended up in a worse situation.

I kept myself alone to protect others. What would letting Gino in lead to? I resolved to never let him get too deeply, to really _care_ about me, because that would leave him in the deepest pit of bad luck he'd ever known.

The door opened again and I heard the heavy, powerful footsteps from before. Gino reached out and touched my hand gently.

I sighed.

Let the interrogation begin.

* * *

_That's all for chapter one, my dears._

_I tried to stay true to the characters, yet I've changed their organization as I pleased..._

_Let me know what you think! Please review ^^_

_Ever at your pleasure,  
~Sins~_


	2. The Black King to The White Knight

_So, it might have taken me... a month or so, but these are long chapters, and I don't wish to jip you, my readers, of important story development moments._

_Here is chapter two. I hope it is well worth the wait!_

* * *

Charles zi Britannia, better known as the Emperor and now my interrogator, sat in a plush cream-colored chair on the right side of the bed I was now propped up in. he'd chosen to sit by the head of the bed, probably to better read my expressions and ascertain my truthfulness.

On my left, in approximately the same position but in a dark wooden chair, sat one Sir Gino Weinberg, my resolute defender/protector for this moment in time. His posture was much tenser, and his proximity had much more to do with offering me support and comfort than with trying to catch me in a lie. His bright blue eyes reminded me of the calm before a storm but he wore a polite, diplomatic smile. The storm, I knew, was the interrogation that would start in a few moments.

"Well, I suppose that we can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way," Charles declared dully, as though he was bored by his own statement.

_Ah, well. He may have gone for the most clichéd interrogation line from any and all films, but at least he seemed bored with it,_ I thought wryly, waiting to smile but forcing myself to retain a calm expression. "Well, then. Why don't we do this the hard way?"

Gino choked and shot me a dark look.

Charles, to my surprise and Gino's absolute shock, just laughed. "Well, now. I like that you are unafraid."

"Ah, well, my father raised me to not believe in fear. Father believed in respect, honor, tradition, culture, dignity. Fear never factored into his outlook on life." I shrugged. "My father was a little strange. Unfortunately, it was _his_ outlook that I inherited. Actually, I believe it's a great deal better that my mother ever was, so perhaps it was more fortunate that I ever believed it to be."

"What of your mother?" His interest didn't seem feigned, but how was I to know? It wasn't as though I had any past experience when it came to handling the Emperor. I mean, I'd seen my father handle him before –and, fairly well, if I might add (and my bias is included free of charge)– but I had no experience with him myself. All I could do was rely on memories that were close to a decade old, my sharp wit, and my …charm.

"She died when I was young." I was testing the waters, wondering if he would back off if I showed that I didn't want to discuss this at all.

"And?"

Ah, well. Seemed he wouldn't cut me a break on that one, which was okay: I didn't mind talking about my mother. "My parents met almost by accident. Father slept with her on some sort of whim, but my mother got pregnant with me to tie him to her for all eternity. She was a bit vindictive, especially since Father would have ignored her existence if she didn't have his first-born son. I spent my early years as a hostage, a prize, yet I was almost completely ignored by both of my parents. She died when I was four, one year after she finally managed to convince Father that I was his son. It took him about five years to stop expecting me to be just like my mother, despite the fact he was _personally_ seeing to how I was raised and how I thought." I shrugged. "Of course, I only had a year or two with him after that point before he died and I ended up in one hell of a legal mess."

Maybe I was old-fashioned, but I had expected certain things from an interrogation. I expected to be asked about the vital statistics: you know, full name, date of birth, Social Security number, weight, height, blood pressure. It surprised me that he had started out with a question about my mother.

I lacked sensitivity on the issue, anyway. I didn't even remember my mother's name, nor did I recall if my parents were ever married. Hell, I could barely remember what she'd looked like! She'd died when I was four, but the most time she'd ever given me without expecting something specific of my father in response was probably a week. My father had spent years with me teaching me. The only thing he'd ever expected of me was that I would come to be his heir eventually. Other than that, Father let me be a child. I was allowed to go to school, to have friends and sleepovers and fun. As things had fallen, the only true parent I had was the one who had taken a remarkable amount of convincing to believe that I was his son. Despite the fact that my father could be both stern and harsh on occasion, the fact that he paid attention to me, that he sent me to the school where he had been educated, that he _cared_ –it all shaped me so much more than my mother, who saw nothing in me but something to use."

"What about your friends?"

Charles was asking some rather _interesting_ questions, considering. I couldn't imagine what good the names of my childhood friends would do him when it came to trying to pin-point my identity. Besides, I doubted Rivalz and Lelouch even _remembered_ me at this point: it had been seven long years and I was sure they had moved on with their lives. What good would hunting them down and asking questions do?

_"He's just as _frère_ described him, Father."_

I hadn't thought much about it when Euphiemia had said it, but was Charles expecting me to come up with the name of a Britannian prince? I didn't think I'd met any of them, aside from the one time I'd vaguely met Prince Schneizel in passing when I was just a child and he'd been just a teenager. Was there another unclaimed prince out there? Was I being used to force one of his wayward heirs back home?

Either way, before my mind had wandered there, I had already been uncomfortable with giving up the names of my childhood friends. If I was to be used to force someone to do something they had no inclination of doing, I was even more uncomfortable. "Friends?" I suddenly found myself asking. "I didn't have many, but I don't feel comfortable giving you their names. It's been seven years since I saw them, and I doubt any of them really remember me."

I was quiet for a moment, waiting to see how Charles was receiving my pronouncement. His face seemed calm, so I was starting to believe my mind's errant wanderings had been just that. But I'd rather error on the safe side of things, anyway.

I gave him my most winning smile before asking, "How do you feel about switching to the easy way, Your Majesty?"

He smiled and suddenly reminded me of my own father. "It really doesn't seem right after agreeing to the hard way."

"Ah, well, that's just a matter of semantics. Let's go the easy way." I gave him what my father has always called my 'enigmatic smile'.

"As you wish."

Those words just seemed _wrong_ coming out of the mouth of the Emperor, but I refrained from commenting on it and simply looked down at my hands. "Check my DNA against my father's DNA profile. I'm certain that some labs still have it, seeing as the number of women claiming their fatherless child was my father's went up exponentially in the six months that followed his death. You might have to call around to find a lab that has it, but I'm certain that it will prove useful in retrieving the answer you seek, Your Majesty."

Gino's hand touched mine and I looked up to meet his gaze. Emotions swam in his blue eyes, but I could read the question there. I reached for his hand and held it for a moment, wondering how to tell him not to ask.

"I understand," the Emperor acquiesced, drawing my gaze back to him. "I'll see that it is done."

There was a pregnant moment of silence that seemed to last for hours. When I could stand it no longer, I asked, "What is it, Your Majesty?"

He smiled at me, the expression almost tender and almost shy. "May I come visit with you again, Suzaku?"

I blinked twice, startled. "Of course, Your Majesty. I'd like that."

It wasn't until the Emperor rose from his chair that I noticed the death-grip Gino had on my poor, abused left had.

Charles inclined his head to me. I bent as far as my stitches would allow. Then, it was Charles' turn to wear an inscrutable smile before he dismissed himself from the room.

Gino's grip on my hand finally relented when the door closed behind the Emperor.

I withdrew it from his grasp carefully, before gingerly flexing my fingers to make sure there was still circulation to each digit. "What is it, Gino?" I asked politely, not daring to look up and have him read the pain in my expression. Knowing he caused me pain would only make Gino more cautious and more worried, and when Gino was with me, I needed him to help me watch the intricate human interactions.

"He was not pleased that you changed your mind and didn't mention your friends," he revealed casually. "I think there was something in particular he wanted to glean from there."

"Lady Euphemia mentioned to him that I was just as someone she called _frère_ described me. 'Frère' means 'brother' in French, and of the two friends I made as a child, two out of two have very French names. Hell, they were the reason I knew what the word meant." I gave him a tight smile. "I had a feeling he was fishing for a missing prince."

"There are rumors of a missing Prince and Princess, although the claimed heirs certainly watch their words about them. The Emperor has candidly mentioned another Prince once, in my recollection. He said 'I wonder if the Little Prince recalls his father's lessons'. He would never have mentioned him at all, except he'd been drinking." Gino looked grim. "If he thinks you know this 'Little Prince', he's going to keep you close even if you _aren't_ the son of Genbu Kururugi."

I gave him a tight smile. "I will not be used to bring a lost lamb into the fold if the lamb ran away itself, Gino. I'm certain that Prince had his reasons to leave his father, his siblings, and the life he once knew, and I don't want to drag him back into it if he wants to stay out of things."

He rested his hand on top of mine for a moment, and we fell into a tense silence.

"Oh the bright side, the Emperor seems to genuinely like you and believe you." Gino gave a sparkling smile.

"You think so? I mean, I want him to believe me, because it is the truth, but you think he likes me?" I asked, suddenly wanting to have pleased him. "He… the Emperor reminds me a bit of my father," I admitted softly.

Gino's answering smile was very gentle. "He really likes you. That's why he _asked_ if he could 'visit with you' again. Trust me, the Emperor's interrogations rarely end with pleasantries, and he asked for permission to see you again instead of stating that he would. That implies his belief in you as well as a certain level of intrest."

"I think it might be the way I talked about my father. The Emperor knew my father socially and he negotiated against him. My father was hardly a soft man: he was stern, harsh, and stubborn. He was stuck on older values, traditions, and dignities, and he made sure to bring up his child in the life he had and in the things he believe. I met one of the princes once, when the Emperor and Father were mid-negotiations. Prince Schneizel was a great deal like his father as a teen, despite being a bit more reserved. He watched everything with those Fae eyes of his, studying the negotiations like a chess master at a chess tournament." I shot Gino an amused expression. "I think he's interested in me because I turned out as my father intended, despite the way the last seven years have gone for me. I still follow my father's teachings like he told me all of those things yesterday, not most of a decade ago. I think he liked Father a lot, because they were similar, and I think he sees my father in me."

Gino looked stunned.

I smiled at him, although I was certain this smile was all sharp jagged edges and without a single ounce of softness or comfort. "That's why I'll have so much trouble forgiving him if he's simply maneuvering me around like a pawn in a chess game. I'd much rather see my father in him than my mother. I'll have lot less respect if he's using me as my mother did."

"Is that why you told him about your mother before you told him the easiest way to discover your identity?"

Amused, I eyed Gino to see how serious he was about his question. "I'm afraid even I am not yet that calculating. Given time and the right environment, I bet I will be soon."

Gino opened his mouth to reply, but a soft knock at the door interrupted him.

I tilted my head at him. "Do I need to invite them in? I'm afraid whoever it is probably has much more of a right to be here than I do."

Gino chuckled at that. "Come in," he invited in lieu of answering my silly question.

At least he was smiling again. I was starting to see how he used that smiling jester's mask: he hid his intensity behind fake smiles and people would drop their guard around him and let him see things that they shouldn't. I was suddenly intensely glad he was my ally in all of this.

The door opened inward and Miss Cécile stepped into the room. "How is our patient, Sir Weinberg?"

"His condition is much the same, surprisingly enough. I think His Highness likes him." Gino gave her a smile.

Her expression softened. "Well, that's good news. Princess Euphemia will be very pleased to hear that. She's been very worried."

I winced.

Miss Cécile turned stern in an instant as she faced me. "Suzaku, you must rest. I know that you probably have enough adrenaline to run from a herd of elephants right now, but you will crash. And, judging by the severity of your wounds, you are going to crash hard. Would you like something to help you sleep?"

I shook my head. "I doubt there's much of a point, Miss Cécile. As you've mentioned, I'm in for a crash. It'll probably be pretty soon, anyway, now that all of the excitement is over. I'd probably be asleep by the time you got back with the medicine."

It was as though having Miss Cécile point it out made me suddenly aware of the exhaustion that made my limbs and my eyelids heavy. I managed to keep my eyes open long enough for her to kiss my cheek and retreat through the heavy wooden doors by refusing to allow myself to fall asleep in front of her and confirm the frailty of my state.

Gino looked amused by my sheer stubborn will, but I forced myself to slide down and lay flat on the bed before I allowed my eyes to close. After all, I _did_ need the sleep. And I felt surprisingly safe here, despite being hidden in the belly of a viscious beast, if the tabloids were to be believed.

I drifted into a deep sleep almost instantly.

* * *

_All five of us were gathered in her backyard, right next to the playhouse that always became our castle._

_"Lelouch has to be the prince," Milly exclaimed. "Because Shirley is the princess!"_

_The redheaded girl blushed brightly and Lelouch smiled brightly at her. Lelouch had quite the soft-spot for the lovely Shirley. He found her sweetness and her shyness very endearing._

_"What's Suzaku, then?" Milly asked the rest of us. Milly was one year older than us, so she was automatically our fearless leader, but sometimes she liked to pretend we all had a say._

_Rivalz pouted, still upset that Milly had decided Lelouch was to be the prince this time. I could still come up with several roles equally as cool as the prince, so I was excited to see who I would become today._

_"He's the knight!" Shirley exclaimed, her blush having faded a few moments before. "He'd gotta be the knight, 'cause he and LouLou are inseparable!"_

_Lelouch winced slightly at the girly nickname, but remained silent on the matter. I cringed internally in sympathy. I was just happy that neither girl had used my equally girly nickname._

_"Well, then what am I?" Rivalz demanded, frustrated and having trouble coming up with a role that still needed filled._

_"You're the Queen's Consort," Milly told him, smiling cutely._

_"Who's the queen?" Rivalz asked, still pouting._

_"Milly," Lelouch, Shirley, and I all replied in unison. It was a no-brainer: as queen, Milly still wielded all of the power, and the rest of us had already realized that Milly liked to be in charge._

_Milly giggled. "Of course it's me, you silly goose. I still have to take care of all of you, after all."_

_Rivalz turned bright red._

_I looked to Lelouch and tried hard not to giggle. Rivalz had confided in us just yesterday that he had a sizable crush on our dear Milly. I had no doubt that Rivalz was quite pleased with this role._

_"Is that alright with you?" Milly asked Rivalz sweetly._

_He nodded quickly, though I would have sworn his blush had darkened two shades._

_"Good!" Milly declared. "Alright, everyone: places!"_

_All five of us hurried to the playhouse, eager to take our positions and begin the day's game._

I woke with a start, staring straight up at the ceiling.

It had been months since I'd dreamed of days long-gone. Usually, the dreams were bittersweet for me: sweet, because I was so very happy in those days, and bitter, because those days were over and I hadn't seen Milly, Shirley, Lelouch, or Rivalz in years. I missed the simplicity of those times, and I missed my friends.

Sighing, I glanced around the dark room. As my eyes adjusted, I realized I wasn't alone in the room at all.

Gino had fallen asleep sitting up in that hard wooden chair. His head was cocked to the side and it had lolled back a bit as well. He looked really innocent in his sleep, like a child. I hoped he was comfortable enough there. Someone had draped him with a soft-looking blanket.

I glanced over toward the window, only to discover that Princess Euphemia was stretched out on the window seat, sound asleep. She lay on her side, facing me, as though to watch over me while I slept. A blanket had been tucked securely around her. She looked peaceful, despite the shadow of worry I could read on her brow. I hoped she was warm enough.

Beside the princess, propped up in the chair the Emperor had used when interrogating me, was the gentle Sir Guilford. His dark hair fanned out on his shoulders and his glasses were askew but still on his nose. His face was turned toward the slumbering princess, as though his vigil continued even in his sleep. A blanket covered him from his feet to his chest. I hoped he was supposed to be asleep at this time.

I glanced back down at the covers that now covered me and noticed a pale hand. I had to focus for a minute before I realized it was Miss Cécile. She was sound asleep, her face pillowed against her arms. I reached out and pushed a chunk of her hair behind her ear. She had fallen asleep while watching over me, and it made me feel warm inside because of the memories it stirred.

Looking around the room once more, I had to smile. I hadn't felt so safe among people since my father died. Just knowing that these people who barely knew me cared enough to watch over me made me marvel at my own situation.

It was too bad that my sanctuaries never lasted. I wasn't looking forward to the end of this one, simply because I was surrounded by such wonderfully likeable people. I felt like I could belong here, with these people, if only I were allowed to stay that long.

I couldn't sleep for the next two hours because of the knot that formed in my stomach because I _knew_ the other shoe had to drop and that it would do so soon.

* * *

_It's so obvious that I am the queen of cheer, ne?_

_Sorry that this chapter ends on that note… I did give him a fun interrogation, though, haha. And Charles genuinely _likes_ Suzaku._

_I hope you don't mind the darkness of Suzaku's back-story: he's a broken guy in the series… I had to make him broken here… Which I hate doing, btw. I love that exercise nut: that's why he tells the whole story :heart:_

_I like to remember that Gino isn't just a pretty smiling face, so I thought I'd take the time to show it…_

_I hope you thought the dream was cute! I had fun writing it._  
_I would have used simpler language, except keep in mind that our present-day Suzaku is reliving this memory: he can't just shed his mentality at the door…_

_By the by, anyone who reads the chapter/part titles will notice later that I mention moves that can't be made on a chessboard. There's a method to the madness: each piece I mention is representative of a major player in this story._  
_Also, you're very welcome for the chess shout-outs when Prince Schneizel was discussed. : P_

_Anyway! Whew! Another 3000+ word chapter for this story! It's actually exactly 30 words shy of the word count from chapter one :P_

_You're welcome._

_So, tell me you love me, that you hate me, that I'm a crazy lady, that Suzaku was the fifth wheel in that dream… whatever: just review!_

_Ever at your pleasure,  
~Sins~_


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